


my god this reminds me//of when we were young

by twofoldAxiom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Illustrated, Writing Collab, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/twofoldAxiom
Summary: Tavros looks back on a memory.





	my god this reminds me//of when we were young

**Author's Note:**

> For a collab event on the Homestuck Artists' Discord server, which I took forever on. Oops.
> 
> Completely safe and fluffy. Like, ridiculously, for my usual stuff. A single untarnished spot in a sea of filthy smut and murder. This isn't even being sarcastic, I'm just surprised that I managed to do it.
> 
> Based on [this picture.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/340342997285863424/347624292835524608/PbJ_.png)

You don’t know why you’re being struck with the memory now, staring at the ceiling with a sopor patch on your neck; you don’t have many good memories of Alternia, but you don’t have many good memories in general, and you don’t think about them often anyway. You turn the image over and over in your mind, piecing together bits of it as they come.

Gamzee was underfed and brittle-horned, and you could still walk without the aid of an exosuit. There’s you on the right of the seating platform with some pizza in your mouth, leaning away as if that’ll help you turn in the racing game you’re playing, and him to your left with the controller loosely held in his hands, not even spacing out for once; present enough to be clearly happy despite sucking at Speedy Squeakbeasts. It was easier to sit on the floor, so you did.

It was nice, that day. Gamzee was always tired, and always distracted; you figured it was because of all the sopor he ate, because it made you pretty sleepy the time you tried one of his pies, just to know what it was like. You didn’t much like it, so you made sure to feed him every time he came by your hive, because despite his baking skills- all muscle-memory, even- he couldn’t cook a full, decent meal worth shit.

You remember, you’d stuffed yourselves to the metaphorical gills with cheesy snacks and bites of cake (though the cake was mostly Gamzee, because the secret ingredient was, of course, more sopor), and you’d spent all night trying to teach him how to use a daggerlance, and then half the day eating and playing videogames and talking shit about people you knew. (That was mostly you, talking shit about Vriska, and he would either make affirming little noises or go on a long tangent about miracles and magnets.)

You remember, and it makes you a little sad, because it’s been a long time ago and a broken back ago, and you’d convinced Aradia not to go after Vriska for it, but sometimes the small of your back hurts, or your legs have phantom itches, and you wonder what life would be like if you weren’t dead from the waist down. 

Certainly, your bulge and nook still work (sort of), so you weren’t culled for being unable to contribute, and having Gamzee on your side meant you got yourself a cushy position as Official Moirail Of His Giggling Eminence. You’re doing pretty well for yourself. And you haven’t played a game of Speedy Squeakfiends with Gamzee in sweeps.

Well, at least you know you can fix that. You press a button on the wall of your block. “Hey, Gamzee, are you still awake?”

“Aw shit, motherfucker, y’all up and did my motherfuckin’ self a frighten all doozylicious, I was all about the retirings in the fillings before I heard that motherfuckin’ peal-screamer so righteous.” It’s a good thing you’ve known him so long, so it doesn’t take forever to get that like it used to.

“Sorry for waking you up back there.” You say. “If this isn’t a good time, I can call again later?”

“Nah, bro, y’all got me up and all a going on, and I can’t say no to my best motherfuckin’ pal on account of some shut eye. What’s the good word?”

You tell him the good word and he honks in pleasant surprise. “Shit, motherfucker, you still got that old thing?”

“I’ve got it set up in my block now.”

“I’ll be going on over, then; it’ll be a good reminiscence on the shit we used to rightly riddle back on homeworld.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He still talks the same, even though you’ve gotten him to stop eating slime. It makes it somehow closer to what it was. “I’ll wait here, alright?”

“A’ight, bro, gimme like five.” You’re going to ask five  _ what _ before he hangs up and you hear a knock on the door. Five seconds later, he’s stooping down to fit his overlarge, well-manicured horns through the door, and you think, things really have improved.

He’s still complete shit at Speedy Squeakfiends. Some things, you decide, never change.


End file.
